The New Wolf
by LudicrousBalderdash
Summary: Following a message on his psychic paper taking him back to 1902, the Doctor discovers that the werewolf gene took less time to mature than he thought. Now, he must free a girl locked in King Edward VII's dungeons, avoid being discovered, and find out the secrets of the wolf. OCs needed(?) (Rated for violence, potential adult themes, and potential language.)
1. Prologue: Trapped and Tortured

**So, another story. I've been working on my Soul Eater fanfiction, slowly. That'll be updating every now and then, but I can't always use the computer. I've been writing some other stuff, as well. I'm such a Whovian now, so I really want to write this.**

**I dunno when I'll be able to post. I'll go for often, but, you know? Busy. School and such.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood, or anything else mentioned in this fanfiction that isn't mine and stuff.**

**Oh, and this takes place just after the sixth season. Haven't seen the seventh yet, since it's not on Netflix and I don't want to pirate it. It'll help you understand this story better if you watch Episode 3 of Season 2 of Doctor Who, "Tooth and Claw."**

**Enjoy~**

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Huddled in a cold stone cell by herself, the girl shivered. It was pitch black, even though her nightvision was so much better than a normal person's. The cell was kept in total darkness and there was a loose, dark cloth bag tied over her head, a blindfold over her eyes. Her clothes weren't normal, ratty prisoner's rags, but thick, black cloth that covered every inch of her skin. Her arms were tied over her head to the wall with chains - an alloy made from steel and silver. Her legs were bound as well, by similar chains. she had little room to move on her own. She was forced to sit, hours on end, in an almost fetal position, her arms in the air. Sometimes, she was bound even tighter by more chains, of the same steel-and-silver alloy, always for a week once a month. Woven into the chain links were sprigs of mistletoe woven into vines. There were no windows in the room. There was one door, a large, thick, heavy wooden door finished with mistletoe oil. There was no knob inside, and only opened inwards. The hallway outside was cold, solid stone as well, with mistletoe lining the walls.

The plants and the silver hurt her, even through her thick clothes. She'd stopped struggling long ago. Once a day she was fed by heavily armed guards. She received half-cooked meat, stale bread, rotted fruits and vegetables, sometimes some slightly moldy cheese. Table scraps. Rarely, one of the guards would feel compassion for her and bring her fresher, proper food, or a sweet, or a dessert. She knew, in the food, and the stagnant water and cold, bitter tea, there were drugs to keep her sedated, but she was so hungry, thirsty. If she protested, tried to communicate with the guards, she would be beaten, most often with a silver rod or a wooden club steeped in mistletoe oil. Her body was covered in scars from having her blood drawn, from medical experiments, from beatings.

She stopped fighting now. What was the point? She could never get out.

But worse than the physical torture was the psychological torment. What had she done to deserve this? Nothing but love a man. He'd made a mistake in loving her. It wasn't her fault the prince... no, no, he was the king now...

Curse him, her once-lover, the king.

She hated him, but still... she loved him. Why? She had no idea.

She wanted nothing more than to get out, and be free. Thoughts of revenge had plagued her mind in the beginning, but now she just wanted to be let go. To never see the king or any of the royal family ever again. She didn't care if he lived or died now. She just wanted freedom. Release from this prison. Even death would be welcome, but she couldn't think of a way to do it that wouldn't give her more torture.

She would be fine, set free. She could control it. Better than the king, or his mother, or his siblings.

So why was she the one stuck here? The royal family had the same thing. The only reason it was her here was because the king was afraid of her.

She lifted her head. Even though she was so far away, in the dark, underground, she felt that pull. Sensed it was time. But bound as she was, the beast was trapped inside her.

She was connected to the moon. She knew it wasn't normal. There was the monster inside her, but she loved that creature now. At first, they both fought, the beast wanted to consume everyone, kill everything, but the fight had left them both. They were unified now. Wanting only freedom. The beast had seen all her thoughts, and did not want to kill anymore. An animal instinct inside her head now, instead of a murderous monster like the king.

She just wanted to run. The bathe in the white moonlight and run and run in the warm summer night air. She and the beast wanted that same thing.

A faint, faraway howl ripped through the silent air.

A tear dripped into the blindfold covering her eyes.

_Please help me... Please, free me..._

* * *

**So, there you go. Prologue stuff. That was depressing. It'll get better, though!**

**I started watching Torchwood. Not bad, but much more... What's the word? Less sophisticated than Doctor Who. Can't think of the word. Dunno. Whatever.**

**Alright, that's all for now! Bye for now, though I shall see you in a while. Or a while ago. Time travel, always gets to your head, can never keep dates straight!**

**~Enzeru**


	2. Chapter 1: The Doctor Discovers

**Woo, new chapter. It won't be too interesting yet. I need some ideas! If anyone can think of a bad guy or something, leave a review or PM me. Thanks!**

**Enjoy~**

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"Okay, so, next, I think... We'll go to... Oh." The Doctor trailed off. He was talking to himself again. "Right. No one with me anymore. Yeah. Alright then, what do you think, old girl?" He asked the TARDIS. Of course, there was no response.

The Doctor sighed and leaned back against the console. "So, guess it's up to me to pick where to go." He turned around and reached for a button, then paused. The engines started whooshing by themselves. "What are you doing now?" The Doctor murmured, running a hand through his hair, brushing it back. He reached into his pocket, standing up straight. He pulled out a thin leather wallet. It didn't hold any money, only a blank piece of a paper where an I.D. would go.

There were words being written across the paper. The Doctor read them aloud. "Please help me... Please, free me..." He sucked at his cheek then stuck the wallet back in his pocket. "Why not?" He said to himself, smiling to no one but his time machine. "Come on, you sexy thing, let's go." He grinned widely and pulled a lever. "Geronimo!"

* * *

The Doctor groaned. "Oh, god, my head... Bumpy landing." He sat up, rubbing the back of his head. He stood up and straightened his bow tie. "Right. Let's see..."

The Doctor checked a screen on the TARDIS's console. "1902?" He wondered. "Well, at least Queen Victoria's not here anymore, so I shouldn't be recognized. Hmm, I wonder who needs me this time... Well, no use standing here talking to myself! I'll be back, old girl." He patted the TARDIS's consol before heading for the door. Cautiously, he opened the door. It was dark. He waited. His eyes didn't adjust; it was much too dark. "Right. Torch." He turned and grabbed one off a shelf. "Okay."

He cracked opened the door again. His arm poked out, sonic screwdriver in hand. The tip lit up bright green, making a pulsing sound. He waved it a bit, then opened the door wide enough to leave. He clicked off the screwdriver and tucked it in his inside jacket pocket. He clicked on the torch and shined the beam on the walls. "Stone? Oh, lovely, a corridor. Because I've have so much luck in places with corridors..." He slipped out of the TARDIS and shut the door. "Wait for me this time," he whispered to the blue box.

Slowly, the Doctor walked down the corridor, walking as quietly as he could. It was dark, eerily dark and quiet. There were no doors or windows. He shined the torch on the walls. "Wait a minute..." He stepped up to the wall and reached up. His long, deft fingers touched something soft. He plucked it. "Mistletoe? Why do they have sprigs of mistletoe on the walls?" He pocketed the bundle of leaves and white berries before moving on. "And who, exactly, is 'they?'" He muttered darkly as he walked. He was tempted to call out, but that had done him a fat lot of good in his thousand years of life. He kept his mouth shut, relying on stealth instead of his usual up-and-about, loud, eager, random attitude.

The Doctor was very uneasy. He wasn't a fan of long, dark corridors, and didn't like the silence. He nervously readjusted his bow tie. "Someone sent me that message... I've got to find them. Free me... Oh!" He smacked his forehead. "This must be a prison! Of course. It's a prisoner. But maybe... they didn't do anything wrong. Maybe I need to stop talking to myself." He sighed. "Again. Earache."

he hadn't taken four steps when he heard a sound. Footsteps? He clicked off the torch and pressed himself against the wall, scarcely breathing. Yes, footsteps. Several people, big men. He heard the metallic clanking of weapons. _Oh, great, guns. Absolutely love guns_, he thought, annoyed. His fingers slipped under his coat, lightly touching his screwdriver. He bit his lip for a moment. He wanted to scan the area, but was afraid the sound and bright green light would give him away. Looks like he'd have to do this the old fashioned, human way. Eavesdropping. Slowly, cautiously, the Doctor half-stepped, half slid forward, scarcely making a sound.

After a moment, a light came into view. The Doctor froze. He was out of range of the light. Was that a lantern? An oil lantern? Looked like it was. The orangey glow revealed several big, beefy men; guards, it looked like, maybe a dozen of them. One, a bit younger and smaller than the others, carried a sack. They were heavily armed and wore... jewelry? Silver jewelry. How odd. Silver jewelry and wreaths around their necks, wreaths of mistletoe. Anyone else would find that amusing, but the Doctor's hearts sank. Mistletoe, silver, lots of weapons. It was so very familiar...

The men had come from another corridor that intersected this one. The Doctor peered down the other corridor as he passed it, following the guards, but still couldn't see anything. Black as pitch. The Doctor shrugged, making a mental note to check it out later.

Assuming he survived.

As the Doctor crept after the guards, who took their duty seriously and spoke not a word, he wondered what was in the sack one of the guards was carrying. That guard wore less silver than the others and wore elbow length gloves. He was less heavily armed. The Doctor's mind moved a million miles a minute trying to figure out why, hoping his suspicions were wrong.

Moments later, the party stopped. The Doctor stopped as well. The corridor ended. There was a door. A big, thick wooden door, ringed with silver. The smell of mistletoe was heavy in the air. The Doctor grimaced. Great...

One man pulled out a large iron keyring with several keys on it. He inserted different keys into hidden locks on the door. There were a series of clicks and whirls, then two guards pushed the door into the room. The room inside was just as black as the hallway. The Doctor crept a little closer when he heard chains rattle.

"Oi! Get up. Lunchtime," a guard with a heavy cockney accent sneered into the room. He roughly elbowed the one with the bag. "Go feed 'er. Dunno why we are. In my opinion we outta just shoot 'er. Freaky beast."

"Shut it," another guard snapped at Cockney. "We have a duty. Don't complain or I'll tell the captain."

Cockney made a face but shut his mouth. The other man, obviously the leader, nodded at the man with the sack. That man took a deep breath before going into the room.

The Doctor inched closer. He couldn't see anything, still. He listened carefully.

"Your, um, food is here," the man said shakily.

There was a rattling of chains, but no verbal reply.

"Please do not attack me or anything, okay? I'm going to take off your... Head... Thing..." There was a pause, then a couple of rustling sounds. "There." There was a faint whisper. The Doctor barely heard it, and couldn't make out the words. The guards didn't notice it, or didn't react to it.

There was more rustling and rattling. This prisoner, whoever she was, was kept locked away. She could be dangerous... What had Cockney said? Freaky beast? Oh...

There were slow but hungry sounds of eating for a bit. The Doctor wished he could see what was happening. One of the guards peered around the door. That guard looked younger than the others, less experienced. "Th... that's her? That girl, she's the beast?" he asked in shock. His eyes were wide. "She can't be any older than I am..."

"Hmph. She was twenty, with much promise, had she not been delving into the affairs of men, and those of the supernatural. She let that creature bite her, infect her. She is deadly," the lead guard said. He held himself with the stiff practice of a long life in the military. He gave the young man a curious look. "What's you name again, lad?"

"R-Russel Hartley, sir."

"Hartley... ah, yes. You just joined the king's personal guard, didn't you?" When Russel nodded, the guard continued, "I recognize your name. You're from one of the much more wealthy families from London, yes? You joined after your sister married. An excellent marksman, I believe."

Russel's face flushed at the praise. "Thank you, sir. But... sir, is the girl really that dangerous?" He peered around the door again, frowning. "She looks... like a girl. Tied up and starving and beaten... but human. She can't be a monster."

"Don't be a fool, boy. She's the most dangerous thing to exist. She defies all reason. She's evil."

Russel opened his mouth again, saw the look on his leader's face, then shut his mouth and watched around the door. The Doctor eyed the young man, a devilish grin ghosting his face as his brilliant mind spiraled, forming a plan.

"There... Alright. I'll, um, be back tomorrow, I suppose," the man in the room said. "Hold still, please..." His voice dropped. The Doctor strained to listen, and this time picked up the words. "I'm terribly sorry, miss. But I have orders to follow. I really don't think this is right. I'll try to bring you a teacake or something tomorrow. You're looking worse and worse."

There was a breath, a sigh. It was followed by the faintest whisper the Doctor managed to catch. "Don't put yourself through too much trouble for me, Lester. Please. I'll be okay. Just go." The voice was female and weak.

"Don't worry, Evelyn. I'll figure something out." There was a rustle, the clanking of chains and a hiss of pain. Lester murmured an apology. The Doctor heard the unmistakable sound of him standing up, followed by footsteps. Lester appeared in the doorway. The Doctor profiled him - tall and lanky, with longish blonde hair in a ponytail. His uniform was too big and his blue eyes were a bit too childish and wide for his face. The Doctor's hazel eyes trapped Russel Hartley, as well, memorizing every detail about that man as well. Shorter than Lester, a bit less lanky with more muscle definition, with medium length, somewhat wavy dark blonde-reddish hair that mostly covered one eye. The eye the Doctor could see was a darker blue than Lester's, and fit his face better. Young, but full of experience. Guarded. He'd lost someone very close to him. When Russel turned slightly, the Doctor could see his other eye. It was pale gray-blue with a faded pupil. Blind? Hmm...

"Has the beast been properly restrained?" the lead guard asked.

Lester nodded. "Of course, sir. But I think she should have a bit more to eat. She's skin and bones, sir. Even if she's not..." he paused, then continued, "Well, human, we still shouldn't starve her. We don't let animals starve, do we?" His voice was a little shaky, and the Doctor realized Lester had a tremor in his voice constantly. Not stress or fear; it was how his voice was. He probably had a stutter, too, if he got nervous enough...

The lead guard sighed and rubbed his moustache. "I don't know..."

"Please, sir? It's not... it's inhumane to let her starve. Even if she's deadly, and we must keep her restrained as she is, we should still give her food. Show her that we are human, with compassion, and in time she may be... well, of use. She may trust us." He sounded very convincing, even with the tremor. Perhaps that was what made him sound so confident. The Doctor was getting more intrigued.

"Alright, fine. I'll see what I can do. But don't give her any more than her ration until it's been approved. Let's go, men."

The Doctor stayed put for a split second until the group turned in his direction. The Doctor backed up quickly, trying to keep quiet. The men started marching, their weapons rattling and clanking and their shoes clicking and tapping the stone floor. _Okay, they won't notice a bit of noise... back, back... _The Doctor wished he had decided on sticking with his previous regeneration's choice of footwear. His ankle-high black boots were not very stealthy. Bright red Converse high tops would have let him move quieter and quicker. He'd search the wardrobe in the TARDIS for something later. Once he got to the TARDIS... he kept backing up, moving quicker than the men, who couldn't see the Doctor in the darkness. The Doctor felt a slight breeze and an emptiness to his right - the other hallway. _Go that way, go that way... _

They did. The Doctor waited with bated breath as the party turned and headed back the way they came. He let out a sigh of relief. Once he was out of earshot of the guards, he paced in a circle, running his hands through his hair in mild agitation "Okay, okay, now what? Bust out that girl now, or find out more?" He stared down the dark corridor towards the distant cell, biting his lip. "Sorry, Miss Evelyn. I need more information. I need... Russel and Lester..." The Doctor turned on his heel and headed down the perpendicular corridor, following the orange lamp.

_I really hope I'm not making a terrible mistake here..._

* * *

**And there you are. Three new characters. **

**Evelyn is such a pretty name. **

**Our little Doctor seems to be getting himself in quite a pickle!**

**Hehe.**

**So, I'm sorry for mixed-up lingo. I'm trying to be true to the slang and terminology, but my knowledge of turn-of-the-century England isn't the best. Also, I'm trying to use the British terms for stuff (torch instead of flashlight, biscuit instead of cookie, chips instead of fries) but I'm American, and as badly as I want to visit Great Britain, I can't afford it. I have to rely on Google and British TV shows and movies to supply the right terminology. So, my apologies if I accidentally offend anyone! I'm trying my best.**

**And if any English people are reading and are interested in proofreading this to fix the lingo, shoot me a PM. I'll accept the help.**

**Let me know what you think.**

**Till next time!**

**~Enzeru**


	3. Chapter 2: Russel Hartley

**Woo. Chapter two.**

**Oh, I am an evil, evil genius...**

**Anyway, here, enjoy~**

* * *

The other hallway was long and twisted with many others intersecting it. The Doctor probably would have gotten lost if not for the group of guards he was following. He wanted to scan each of the corridors he passed, but wouldn't risk getting caught. He instead stuck to memorizing the layout of this corridor so he could find his way back.

Finally there was a large, silver-steel alloy door with a few keyholes. The lead guard inserted a key into each one and two guards pushed the double doors open. The guards immediately marched right in. The Doctor hung back, but got a good view of the decently lit room. It was round and tall, with a spiral staircase hugging the walls. It was lined with torches- wooden, old fashioned burning torches.

This confused the Doctor until he noticed the floor- or rather, the enormous grate in the floor, and then the small holes in the wall. Hundreds, thousands of small holes. This room was under a lake or something. If something (namely, the girl in the cell) got in here they didn't want in here, they'd fill this room to the brim with water. There was a plug under the grate to hold the water in. The room would fill fast enough to drown a crocodile. The torches would sputter out, harmless and cheap to replace. They would pull the plug later and let the water drain back into its source. Genius, the Doctor thought, impressed with the thought out into the architectural design, but also sickened by the cold, detached way of killing.

The Doctor took a hesitant step forward and froze. His toe had hit something. A small stone on the ground. It clattered to his left, echoing in the empty corridor.

The guards stopped and stared down. The lead guard narrowed his eyes. "Hartley. Go see what that was."

Russel saluted and marched down the stairs. The Doctor scuttled back a few feet, his mind whirling with ideas. What to do, what to do... Aha!

* * *

Russel stepped into the shadows warily. "Who's there?" He had authority in his tone, but his shifting eye, the slight waver of his voice, and the tense hand on his pistol revealed his uneasiness.

The back of Russel's neck tingled. He tensed up... Too late.

A strong hand suddenly clamped over Russel's mouth and another one wrapped around his wrist, fingers pressing into sensitive pressure points, making his hand slack and prohibiting him from grabbing his gun. Whoever his attacker was, he was taller than Russel, wearing a tweed jacket, and had a lot of experience in this. Russel grabbed the man's arm with his free hand and tried to free himself, writhing wriggling. The attacker held Russel at a position where the young soldier couldn't hurt him, couldn't kick him or step on his feet.

"Now, look, the only reason I'm doing this is because I need help," the attacker whispered in Russel's ear. His voice was soft and kind, regretful, but sounded... Old, somehow, even though he couldn't be any older than 30, there was a hint of experience and loss in his voice. Russel wasn't sure why, but he instinctively trusted the man. He rebelled against the feeling and fought harder to escape.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. Trust me, if there was another way to get your attention without risking you shooting me, I would. But you're a soldier." The man's voice sounded bitter. "I know how that is." He was quiet for a second while Russel breathed harshly through his nose, tugging uselessly on the man's arm. He was incredibly strong. The man sounded normal when he spoke again. "Look, I won't hurt you. Cross my hearts." Hearts? As in, plural? Was this man drunk? No he sounded much too rational. Incredibly calm and aware. Insane? Completely mad?

"I need your help concerning the girl in that cell. See, Russel Hartley, I don't know if she should even be in there. This is beyond the jurisdiction of your government, or even your planet, that that girl is locked up." Planet? The man spoke as if he were not of this world, yet had an accent very similar to Russel's.

"I overheard you earlier. You said you don't think that girl is dangerous. It's my job to find out if she is or is not and I need you help." Russel was curious now, despite himself. He should be demanding this man to explain himself, he should be arresting him, but... the girl in the cell... Russel stopped struggling.

The man didn't relax his grip. Russel suspected that the man thought Russel was playing possum. But when the man spoke again, Russel heard the smile in his voice. "Good lad, Russel. In case you're wondering, I found out your name by eavesdropping. Something I seem to be fairly good at. In any case..." Russel had to stop from flinching as the man leaned closer. Russel felt soft hair brush his ear. Whoever this man was, his hair was shorter than Russel's, but his bangs were long, curled inward at the ends, and extended to about the bottom of his eyes on the right side of his head. Russel tried to turn his head to look at the man, but couldn't move. The man spoke very softly and quickly. "Russel, this could be very dangerous. But I can tell that you want to know more about the girl. You want to know who I am and how I got here. You wonder why what I'm saying makes little sense, yet I'm completely sane. It doesn't make sense to _you. _But you're curious. You silly little humans. So curious, you always want to know everything." The man chuckled, warm breath in Russel's ear making him want to flinch. Not that Russel was scared. No. Russel wasn't scared. He just had issues with people this close to him. The last time... The man continued. "The truth is, I need help. And I trust you. Don't ask me why. I've got a lot of experience with knowing who I can trust and who I can't and you seem trustworthy. I'm going to let go of your mouth now. I want you to call out to your guard friends. Tell them you think it was a rat or something, you're taking to take another minute to investigate. Tell them to stay there. If you say anything else..." The man's voice hardened and he sounded deadly serious when he hissed, "I will take you far from here and abandon you on a barren planet five million light years away from Earth, a billion years in the past. And I can do it." Russel trembled slightly with fear. The man let out a sad sigh and slowly released his grip on Russel's mouth.

Now, Russel had a choice. He could call for the guards to save him. But he had a feeling that his attacker could and would do something horrible to Russel if he did that. He could attack the man. Slam his elbow into the man's stomach, chest, or head, or slam the back of his own head into the man's face. But, again, Russel had a bad feeling about that idea. The man's grip was powerful. He knew how to fight, and was bigger, stronger, older, and much more experienced than Russel, even if the young soldier felt that the man didn't like fighting. Russel was dying to find out what the man meant. He had said 'you silly little humans' as if he... _weren't_ human. Russel wanted to find out what was with the girl in the cell. Did it have to do with Torchwood? Probably... Russel took a deep breath to steady himself. He called out, "Captain, it's just a rat, I think. I'll be another minute. Stay there. I'll be back in a moment, I just want to see where it went."

There was a pause, then the captain's voice replied, "Very well, Hartley. Hurry it up. We'll wait for you at the top. If you're not up there in fifteen minutes we're flooding the place. Let's go, men." There was the loud stomping of boots receding up the stairs.

Russel turned his head, but couldn't see the man. Only a faint outline. "Happy now?" Russel hissed.

The man chuckled dryly. "One word for it." The mysterious man suddenly looped his arm under Russel's and over the soldier's chest, gripping his opposite shoulder and forcing him to extend his arm. The man's wrist dug uncomfortably into Russel's throat.

"Wh... what the hell...?" Russel growled, mentally wincing at the pitch of his voice and the slightly panicked tremor.

The man sighed. "I guess being around you, soldier, woke up my instinct as one. It's been a long time since I've had to use a move like this one. A very, very long time. How long?" The man seemed to be talking to himself now. "No, no, it wasn't with the Daleks... obviously, since they aren't human or even human shaped... oh, a hundred years? Two, three hundred? Dear God, I've forgotten how old I am." The man laughed, a sad, forlorn sound that made Russel feel sorry for him, even though his words further confused the poor young man.

"What the hell are you talking about? Who are you?"

"Oh! Right, yes! I, ah... Don't tell anyone, but I'm the Doctor."

"You're a doctor?" Honestly, a physician, a completely mad one with military training?

"No, no, not _a_ doctor. _The _Doctor. Capitol "D," "the" in front. The Doctor. Not the medical kind, although I do have some training in that area for about four hundred different races..." The Doctor's tone became wistful again.

"The Doctor? Doctor who? What races? There aren't four hundred ethnicities, and human anatomy doesn't change fro race to race!"

"No, no, just Doctor. No name that I'm telling anyone. And not four hundred types of humans, idiot, four hundred _species. _Throughout the universe. Though there's... oh, thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions." The Doctor sounded aggravated, as if he'd had to explain this far too many times before.

"Right. You're 'The Doctor,' with a secret name, and apparently you're not human, and there are extraterrestrials? Yeah. Where'd you learn to do this move?" Russel tried to move, but his entire upper body was stuck. His arm was going numb and his other hand was limp.

"Gallifrey. My home planet."

Russel wanted to scoff at the words. But the Doctor's tone... so sad, so angry, so lost, so lonely... so much raw emotion in those four words, no one could fake that. Russel was quiet. _Not human... I've been kidnapped by an alien. From space. _Russel closed his eyes and focused on the body behind him. About six feet tall... No, no, five foot eleven, anywhere between 25 and 35, wearing pants, ankle high boots of a strange material, a collared shirt and a tweed jacket, possibly suspenders, a tie... no, a bow tie. There was something in the pocket inside the tweed jacket, a small, thin cylinder. It was pressed against Russel's back, whatever it was. Possibly metal. The man was probably freezing in that thin jacket. The tunnels were cold. Russel focused harder on the Doctor. He was warm, but... no, not as warm as Russel... his body temperature felt significantly lower than anyone else Russel ever met. It wasn't a drastic thing one could tell immediately. The Doctor's hands were warm. But his overall body heat felt lower than it should. Russel's eyes snapped open. "Your home planet. Doctor, sir, I don't mean to alarm you, but I think you may have hypothermia."

"Hypo... No, I don't I"m perfectly fine." The Doctor sounded confused by Russel's words but completly sure of his own.

"Your body temperature is... well, you're cold."

"Oh, no, no I'm fine. Perfectly normal. Funny." The Doctor's voice sounded different now. Curious. "You're one of the first humans who could tell I have a lower body temperature. How curious..." He took a deep breath through his nose. "No time to worry about that for now." There was a loud, low thud. "The door atop the stairs just closed. I presume the other guards went up there. I'm going to let you go now."

Russel grunted in relief and pain as the Doctor released him. His arm ached and he couldn't move his hand. Russel rubbed his neck and rolled his head and shoulders. The joints popped. He then tried to rub some feeling back into his left hand. He glared at the Doctor, or rather, the faint outline of the man. Or alien. Whatever the hell he was.

The Doctor rummaged around in his coat for a moment, searching for something. Russel noted the glint of metal in his jacket pocket. "Aha! Torch." The Doctor held up a different object, this one made of metal as well, but smaller and thicker with a wide head and a flat, glassy face. There was a click and the face lit up. A beam of bright light shot out. The Doctor chuckled and looked up at Russel. He groaned.

Russel was trembling slightly, but held his pistol as steady as he could. It was aimed at the Doctor's face. "I don't know who you are, or where you're from, or why you're here. All I know is that you're crazy and you kidnapped me and you know valuable information about the prisoner in the cell that should go directly to the king. However, you seem dangerous."

"Oh, I am crazy. I'm a madman. A madman... with a box." the Doctor chuckled.

"Box? What do you mean?"

"It's called the TARDIS. 'Time And Relative Dimensions In Space.' It's... well, it's my time machine, and my spaceship."

"TIme machine?"

"And spaceship. It can travel anywhere throughout time and space... well, almost anywhere."

"Oh, really?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Yes, really."

"So you're really not from Earth?"

"No, I'm not, and I-"

"Prove it."

"What?"

"Prove you're an alien. Or I'll shoot."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. Russel stared at the Doctor. There was a glint in his eyes... amusement? "Very well. Give me a number."

"A number?"

"Yes, and I'll tell you the square root of it. Any number."

Russel thought about it. "Um... twenty-three thousand seven hundred eighty five."

"154.223863264. Pick something hard next time."

Russel narrowed his eyes. "Simple mathematics? That's all you've got? So you're a smart madman." Russel flexed his hand. Feeling was flowing through his fingers again, but it still felt numb, and was starting to get that prickly feeling.

The Doctor sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "Let's see... well, I have this." He pulled the metal cylinder from his pocket and shined the electric torch on it. The thing seemed to be composed of six parts- a brass or some similar metal bottom piece, a white piece followed by what appeared to be a rubbery black handle, another brassy part with a button connected to a silver part with four sort of claws surrounding a green bulb. The Doctor held it vertically and hit the button thing. The claws separated and the green bulb lit up brightly. There was an electrical pulsing sound from the device. "Sonic screwdriver. Not a weapon. Nothing deadly. Really, it just sort of scans stuff and I read the electrical signals it picks up. It also opens or locks almost any door, and sends out electrical signals so I can control and change electrical... stuff. Really complicated, and we don't have time to go over all it's uses and things." He shut it off with a flick of his wrist and tucked it away. "Happy?"

Russel considered it. "No."

"No?!" The Doctor's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"No. That thing... No, not human, but you still could be."

The Doctor groaned. "God. Okay, you can chose either of two options. Check my pulse, heart rate, whatever you want to call it, or I can share some of my memories with you, which I really, really do not want to do, because last time I did that, I had the worst headache imaginable, and it takes a lot to give me a real headache like that had."

Russel didn't like the sound of the last part. "The former."

The Doctor chuckled. "Thought so." He rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm.

Russel was fairly experienced in the medical field, since his father had been a doctor. Russel warily put the pistol back in its holster and shook his left hand around for a second to dispel the prickly feeling. He turned the Doctor's arm to his palm faced upwards and placed two fingers just below the Doctor's thumb. He found the pulse quickly enough. "It's normal, so wh-" He stopped. He shifted his fingers slightly to feel the Doctor's entire wrist. _Two. _Two pulses. Russel stared in shock at the Doctor's arm. "There... you... you have two pulses. Two."

The Doctor chuckled. "Two hearts." He tapped his chest twice, once over the left side and again on the right.

Russel dropped the Doctor's arm. "Impossible."

"Nope. Binary vascular system. Plus, I can do this..." The Doctor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he collapsed.

Russel managed to catch him, but the Doctor's weight was too much to hold, and Russel half dropped, half set him down. Russel pushed the Doctor until the taller man was laying on his back. "Doctor? What the hell did you do?" Russel crouched beside his body. The Doctor didn't respond. His eyes didn't even move behind his eyelids. Russel grabbed the torch that was rolling away on the floor, still on, and shined it on the Doctor's face. He didn't react. "Doctor?" Russel was getting afraid now. He went from a crouch to a kneel and gently pulled up one of the Doctor's eyelids, shining the torch beam into his eye. It looked dull and didn't move. "Doctor." Russel's fingers pressed against the Doctor's throat. "No, no, no, what the hell did you do?" He stared helplessly at the Doctor's body. He had no detectable pulse. Russel leaned over and pressed his ear against the Doctor's still chest.

_He wasn't even breathing._

_The Doctor is dead._

* * *

**OH, NO! I'VE KILLED THE DOCTOR!**

**Till next time...**

**~Enzeru**


	4. Chapter 3

**So, the Doctor is dead.**

**Killed himself.**

**Right?**

**Read and find out.**

* * *

"Doctor, what have you done?"

Russel felt shocked. He stared blankly at the body lying on the ground.

The Doctor was dead.

Russel really wasn't going to shoot the man. He'd never killed a human before. The thought of that terrified him. He really couldn't bear to see anyone in any form of pain. He had wanted to be a doctor, like his father, but Russel's father disapproved. _"Be a soldier, lad. Protect your king. You have the skills for it. That eye of yours is incredible. You could pin a fly to a tree a hundred meters away without killing it." _

Russel grimaced and ran a finger next to his eye. He saw nothing from that side of his head. His other eye really was incredible to make up for the handicap. He had better than normal vision in that eye. He could see better with one eye than any other man could with two.

But this couldn't help him now.

He let a man _die._

"Doctor, I don't know if you can hear me, wherever you are. I don't know what you are. But I think I believe you now. You're an alien from a planet called Gallifrey. Something about the way you said it makes me think... that you're alone. That something bad happened and you either can't go back, or your people are lost or dead or something, but you don't like to talk about it because you feel guilty about whatever happened. You were here to see if that woman is a menace or completely innocent. No other purpose. You're not a threat to the king or anyone else simply because you didn't want to be. You could be, but you're kind and like to not be noticed. I suppose time travel could be possible, judging by your clothes." Russel sighed. "God. I just met you. I almost... I almost could have killed you." Russel put his face in his hands. "Now I'm admitting my life story to a corpse. An alien corpse, but still."

Russel sighed and placed a hand on the Doctor's chest. "I"m sorry, sir. I'll... get your body later... tonight..."

What was that?

Russel closed his eyes and pressed his hand on the Doctor's chest a little harder. Very slightly.

_Thump._

It was followed by a fainter thump.

It was quiet, nearly undetectable. But... There was something... beating inside his chest. The right side of his chest. Slowly, too slowly for a heart. The fainter thump... Russel slid his hand to where the Doctor's heart should be. There was another thump, and Russel jumped. It felt like a heartbeat, except it was preceded by another one. It was so very faint and slow. There were impossible intermissions between the timing of the pairs of thumps for a heart beat. And the Doctor wasn't breathing...

Russel leaned down to press his ear on the Doctor's chest.

_Thump-thump._

It sounded like overlapping heartbeats, not quite in harmony, but still...

"Boo."

Russel jumped. It was only his military training that stopped him from shrieking like a little girl and his shock that prevented him from drawing his pistol.

The Doctor chuckled, not opening his eyes. "Been a while since I've done that. Faked being dead. Still fun." He cracked open one eye. "Not the being dead part. That's not very fun. The tricking people into thinking I'm dead part."

Russel scrabbled backwards. "How... how..."

The Doctor groaned and sat up. "My back... oh, I'm getting old." He looked at Russel. "So, you do belive me now. Good."

Russel stared in shock at the Doctor. "But... you... you were..."

"Yes, I know. Dead. Well, not exactly. It's something older members of my race, the Time Lords, can do. We literally have control over our bodies, even things like our heart rate and breathing. We can voluntarily enter into a coma-like state. We're still conscious, however, and can still use our senses and all. Very useful at times." The Doctor rolled his shoulders, then jumped to his feet. He stretched backwards, wincing as the joints in his back popped. "Blimey. I really am getting too old for this."

"You can't be any older than thirty or so."

The Doctor laughed dryly. "Oh, I am much, much, much older."

"How old?" Russel found himself uncertain to know the answer even as he asked the question.

The Doctor's eyes regarded Russel with a look the soldier recognized. The look of an old, old man with immense, unimaginable life experience. The look of a man who had witnessed too many deaths, many of which were caused by himself. "If I told you my age, you wouldn't believe me."

Russel crossed his arms. "Try me."

The Doctor half smiled a bit sadly. "I'm one thousand, three hundred sixty four years old."

Russel stared at him. "Impossible."

"Time traveler. Time Lord."

Russel got to his feet, taking a few deep breaths._ Okay, okay, calm down. Aliens are real. Okay. Don't freak out. There's no reason to panic. Just do what he says now and freak out later._ "So, sir, what can I do to help?"

"First off. Don't call me 'sir.' Just Doctor is fine, although you really shouldn't tell anyone. I'm sort of supposed to be dead. Literally dead. Every race in the universe believes I am, at least. I kind of tricked them into thinking I am, so don't go around mentioning me to all your soldier friends. I just need you and that other young man. Lester?" Russel nodded. He was close to Lester. They were the youngest in the group of secret guards that took care of and watched the girl in the cell. None of them knew too much, except the captain. Russel suspected Lester knew more than he let on, but Russel wasn't one to press. The Doctor continued, "We're running out of time. Funny. That's not a thing I'm used to saying... In any case," the Doctor clapped his hands softly together once and sort of pointed his clasped hands at Russel "I need you to meet me in the courtyard at one in the morning. We'll have more time to talk then."

"What if I don't come?" Russel demanded, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

The Doctor chuckled and pulled at his suspenders. "You will. Because you silly humans are so very curious. That's one thing I love about you people. Always thirsting for knowledge. Besides, I can show you my spaceship-slash-time machine. You'll love it, they all do."

"They?"

"Oh, people I meet and pick up in my travels. I rarely make house calls like this one. Most of the time I'm just traveling around, seeing new things and such. Of course, then something tries to kill me or something, or invade, destroy, enslave, et cetera, the human race, and..." the Doctor's eyes grew round, haunted, staring into space as he inhaled sharply. He stayed that way for a moment, then let go of his suspenders. He flinched as they snapped back. "Ow. Well, anyway. Just meet me in the courtyard. One A.M. on the dot. I'll be the one with the blue box and the sonic screwdriver."

Russel nodded and saluted. "Yes, sir. Erm, Doctor. Sorry. Force of habit. I'll be outside in the courtyard at one A.M. sharp."

"Good! Now, run along. Don't let anyone know, and especially not Lester. I'll have to talk to him later. See you then. Which... will only be about five minutes for me." The Doctor chuckled and turned around, facing the tunnels.

"Don't get caught," Russel warned, before turning the opposite way and marching back to his team as the Doctor's footsteps receded behind him, heading deeper into the tunnels. Russel heard a whirring buzz. The sonic screwdriver. He chuckled to himself. Whoever that man was, he was interesting.

_Maybe he can tell me more about Torchwood... I better make sure they don't hear about him!_

* * *

**And there you have it. See, I'm not _that _evil! I'd never kill our beloved Doctor! *glomps Doctor* hehe.**

**Sorry for awkward lingo. Still American here. Still unsure of English slang and stuffs.**

**Still looking for some OCs to slip in. If anyone requests, I can put a character bio form up. The OCs may or may not have large roles. Depends. I'm still working out what to do with this. **

**Neo-Stitches: Thanks, dear :P and I've tried, you goof. Grammar and descriptiveness. That wasn't a word, was it? Whatever.  
**

**Thanks for reading, and I'll post the next chapter I don't know when. I may start trying to post one chapter a week. Hopefully. I'll put a hold on my Soul Eater fanfiction, but I'll still continue that! I just love this one so much~**

**Till next time!**

**~Enzeru**


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